Nine Years: A novel (Beneath the Clouds Book 1)

by Jessica Leed

  She leant in and gently took the book from his hands. ‘How are we going with them this week?’ she asked, flicking to the page with the week’s spelling words on them.

  ‘Ok, I suppose.’

  She took a look at the first word. ‘Let’s do some together now.’

  He shifted uncomfortably but nodded and slowly sunk into his seat.

  ‘Stripe.’ She placed the book down and waited for him.

  He grew quiet for a moment then opened his mouth. ‘Stripe. S-t-r-i-p.’ He knew he has it wrong, his face had turned red and he was shifting about in his chair again.

  ‘Good try,’ she encouraged him. ‘Here.’ She turned to a blank page in his book. ‘Let’s sound it out together.’

  He sunk his head into his hands, staring down at the page in front of him ‘S-t-r-i-pe,’ he tried again.

  Sienna nodded. ‘Good! Let’s have a look at what the silent “e” does to a word, that will help us understand the spelling a bit more.’ She began to write out the word neatly. ‘If we get rid of the e on this word, what does it become?’ She covered the end letter of the word.

  ‘Strip,’ he answered correctly.

  She smiled nodding, pleased at how well he was responding. ‘Now, notice when you say “strip” and “stripe” out loud, notice how the only difference is the vowel sound in the middle. Both words end in the same sound because the “e” at the end of “stripe” is silent. The “e” becomes bossy—’

  ‘Miss Henderson?’ He stopped her before she had a chance to finish. She looked into his eyes to find an expression of confusion. ‘Thank you for this, I promise I will work it at home.’ He reached down and picked up his bag. She had never seen him so eager to leave, he was usually always so keen to draw out time for as long as he could. She closed the book and stood to her feet.

  ‘I am always here for you Nolan, I hope you know that.’ She was trying to meet his eyes but he was too busy focusing on the zip on his bag after stuffing the book inside. ‘I thought that maybe we can work on a few things each week together after school for a little bit.’

  He looked up then, and his eyes connected with hers. ‘Like my spelling?’

  She smiled. ‘Yeah! Maybe we could take a look at some math too, like the fractions we worked on earlier in the week’ she suggested, remembering all the crosses she made against his work that afternoon.

  ‘I suppose we could do that.’ He nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome, buddy,’ she said gently. ‘Do you have some time now?’

  She knew that he did. He wasn’t involved in any activities or sporting commitments outside of school. Already he had told her how rarely his parents were around, often arriving home late each night. In fact, most nights he was responsible for preparing his own dinner and putting himself to bed.

  ‘I suppose I have a bit of time.’ He placed his bag back down. ‘But can we please maybe work on something else if that’s okay?’

  She smiled at his manners. It didn’t bother her that he wanted to do something else, she was just glad he was open to it. She wanted him to slip back into feeling comfortable around her always, and knew what it would take to bring it back out.

  ‘Let’s have a look at the book you’re reading.’

  His eyes lit up as he unzipped his bag again and pulled out a giant, colourful book. He passed it over to her with a big grin, his big brown eyes dancing for the first time that day.

  She laughed light heartedly and read the title aloud. ‘One hundred most disgusting things on the planet.’

  He nodded, his smile never leaving his face as he opened the book and flicked through the pages. ‘It has the most repulsive things inside Miss Henderson …’ he started.

  She grinned. Repulsive. She didn’t know any other grade three student whose vocabulary even contained the word.

  ‘See here? Look how disgusting our body is!’ He pointed to a page of the human body that was filled with images of snot, scabs, earwax and god knows what else.

  She chuckled. ‘What can you tell me about them?’

  He lifted his head and cleared his throat. ‘A scab forms when a clot dries up after you stop bleeding. Their job is to protect the cut by keeping germs and other stuff out and giving the skin cells underneath a chance to heal.’

  She smiled at him, impressed at his knowledge. A frown appeared across his face.

  ‘Am I correct?’

  ‘You certainly are, Nolan,’ she agreed, nodding. She snapped the book shut and held it to her chest as she quizzed him. ‘What else can you tell me?’

  He placed his hands on his hips and swayed back and forth, well aware of how impressed she was by him, and was lapping it up. He grinned at her and stood taller. ‘Under the surface, all kinds of things are going on,’ his tone composed, confident. ‘New skin cells are being made to help repair the torn skin, damaged blood vessels are being fixed.’

  She tilted her head in amazement and patted his shoulder. He looked at her with a big smile of accomplishment.

  ‘Your parents must be very proud of you! Have you shared these facts with them?’

  Instantly, his smile dissolved and he lowered his hands into his pockets. ‘Nah,’ his response came short.

  She had a curiosity to dig deeper. She could sense things couldn’t possibly be right at home, her single conversation with his mother had told her that much.

  ‘Nolan,’ she had to be careful how she worded this. ‘How often do your parents listen to you read?’

  His hands were still in his pockets, his eyes quickly focused on the floor.

  She felt for the boy and a frustration built inside of her. How could any parent possibly show such little interest towards their son? Especially Nolan, who was bright, sharp, intelligent, kind. The thought alone was enough to make her blood boil.

  ‘They’re really busy.’ He looked up and shrugged. ‘They say stuff like if I’m doing well enough in school there’s no reason to be doing any extra work at home.’

  They say what?

  She took a deep breath to try and tame the anger that had escalated inside of her. ‘They don’t think you are doing well at school?’

  He shrugged and looked at the floor again. ‘They say I wasn’t blessed with “the smarts,’” he said, emphasising the words that had been spoken over him.

  In the moment, all she wanted to do was drive Nolan home and wait as long as it took for his parents to arrive so she could serve them a piece of her mind. What type of parent manipulated their child’s mindset like that?

  She cleared her throat and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Look at me Nolan,’ her voice tender, but stern.

  He met her eyes. There was a visible sadness behind them. ‘Don’t let anyone determine your worth, you hear me? You are an incredibly intelligent boy. You are capable of anything.’

  The corner of his mouth curled into an encouraged smile. ‘Ok … thanks,’ he whispered.

  They spent the next hour in the classroom working through the various learning tasks from the week. They didn’t discuss anything beyond the four walls of the classroom. After seeing the hurt in his eyes after their brief conversation, she thought it was best to leave his home life alone.

  At least for now.

  In the short time they spent together, she was reminded over again just how clever he was. With a little prompting, he was quick to grasp concepts and worked through them with a confidence she was yet to see in the classroom. Every morning he would be the first to arrive by a good twenty minutes, playing with the kinetic sand or lego as she wrote up the day’s timetable on the whiteboard. A quiet assurance began to unravel, one that had been suppressed by a self-doubt she was determined to get to the bottom of. After spending another hour finishing off another pile of marking, she made her way home.

  She was exhausted.

  As she step
ped into her deserted apartment that night, her body instantly relaxed. She reached into her handbag and took out the cheese and tomato sandwich she hadn’t had the chance to eat. Her stomach rumbled as she bit into what was now two pieces of soggy bread. She finished it within seconds, she was that hungry.

  She released a heavy breath, darting her eyes around the kitchen as she contemplated what to cook for herself as Patrick was out at a work dinner. She opened the fridge to discover a scarce array of condiments. She groaned not seeing potential in any of it and she shut the door. That was when the pizza magnet sitting at eye level took her attention.

  It was exactly what she felt like.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten the stuff with it not being an option in their home. Which only made her question what it was doing on the fridge in the first place really.

  Patrick was adamant about clean eating. He hadn’t always been that way, but out of nowhere in the last couple of years had set a meal limit of three hundred and fifty calories. Her stomach began to growl more violently. She decided not to ponder the calorie thing too much and instead, took out her phone and tapped in the number.

  Half an hour later her pizza arrived. Before she knew it, she devoured nearly the entire thing, leaving only one sad, sloppy piece behind. Minutes later a tightening feeling invaded her stomach.

  She felt sick.

  She wasn’t used to greasy food, or the extra few hundred calories. If Patrick knew about her little binge, he wouldn’t be impressed—he would be mad. Suddenly, the thought of his disapproval was more than she could handle, especially with how strained things have become between them lately. She was too exhausted to risk a fight over something as petty as her choice for dinner.

  In a sudden panic, she took the pizza box and keys from the counter and jogged her way downstairs to the set of bins at the front of their apartment block. She nearly knocked him over on her way out of the security gate. His strong hands took hold of her waist, pulling her in as she nearly fell over him.

  Talk about timing.

  ‘Wooooah babe, slowdown,’ his voice playful, surprising her.

  Her body tensed up as she subtly tried to hide the box behind her. But this quickly failed as it fell open and the pizza sloshed down her leg, landing in a pile by her foot.

  He stared at the slice she now wished she had eaten. ‘Hiding the evidence, are we?’ His response came somewhat light, yet she was no fool to detect a rising tension behind it.

  She bent down, feeling his eyes on her as she sent it into the bin. She looked up at him and casually flung her arms around his neck. ‘Let’s be honest, I knew you wouldn’t approve, but the cravings got the better of me tonight,’ she laughed, uneasily.

  He frowned as he took hold of her arms and lowered them to her side. ‘You know how I feel about you eating shit like this.’

  She smiled at him, hoping it wouldn’t become a thing. Surely not? He was in such good spirits just minutes before, wasn’t he? The stern look in his eyes told her that his mood had changed.

  She nodded slowly, knowing all too well what was coming. ‘Yes, I do know.’ She took a step back. She didn’t have a witty comeback, or a response of any kind for that matter. She knew the battle was lost before it even begun.

  She was yet to win one, and tonight wouldn’t be the first.

  What was the point? Any playful side of him was made extinct months ago. She hated that she always felt like she had to justify everything.

  He took hold of her hand and with a strength, flung her around so her face mirrored his. ‘Really? Are you really going to have an attitude about this when all I’m doing is looking out for you?’ His eyes tapered, piercing hers like daggers.

  Her heart did a flip flop as he inched his face closer to hers. She stared into his eyes, feeling his breath hard against hers.

  He had been drinking again. She was certain of it.

  There was no mistaking the familiar smell. Her defeat quickly turned to frustration.

  ‘Have you been drinking again?’ she asked firmly.

  He raised his eyebrows and jerked his head back, noticeably peeved for having been questioned. He threw her hand away. She reached for it again, but he had already begun to make his way inside without her. ‘Patrick, how much have you had? You were behind the wheel tonight!’

  He kept walking ahead without her, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. ‘Maybe sometimes I need to drink in order to tolerate you, have you ever thought about that?’

  She caught up to him and reached desperately for his hand before he had a chance to go in without her. ‘You don’t mean that.’ It came out more like a yelp than anything.

  With his other hand positioned around the door knob he just stood there for a moment before turning to face her.

  ‘Do you?’ she whispered. Fresh tears welled in her eyes before she had a chance to stop them. How could he possibly think of her in this way? She was always so careful not to put a foot wrong, every day trying so hard to be the woman he wanted her to be.

  He stared blankly back at her, his face unreadable. She inhaled shakily waiting for his response as she continued to search his eyes with her own. Slowly, they began to soften and he hung his head.

  ‘No.’

  There was an honesty behind his tone that allowed her to breathe again. She squeezed his hand even though he loosely held hers back. She longed for a sign of reassurance, a squeeze back. Anything.

  But his eyes were down at his hand that hadn’t moved an inch from the handle. She slipped her arm around his waist and they just stood there in silence. The wind picked up, sending a wave of shivers down her spine. She couldn’t figure him out. She couldn’t read him the way she used to. It used to be so easy. When had they become so disconnected? She hated not knowing what was going on inside his head.

  ‘How was the team dinner?’

  He looked at her with questioning eyes, then his face relaxed. He slowly nodded his head. ‘Fine.’

  Another one-worded answer.

  She pursed her lips together, acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t going to elaborate. Case closed.

  It was time to go inside. With her hand in his they made their way up the flight of stairs together. She found herself needing to steady him as he struggled to find his balance, swaying with every stair they climbed. The thought of him driving home this drunk, scared her. But she enjoyed the rare moment of her hand in his too much to allow it to rattle her.

  Even if it was all they had.

  Four

  She woke to the buzzing sound of the washing machine.

  It took a few moments to register what was going on as her weary eyes fluttered their way open. She laid still on her back with her focus towards the ceiling as her eyes adjusted to the light spilling through the blinds. She turned her head, confused not to find Patrick beside her as he was almost never up before her.

  Then she remembered, it was Saturday.

  Which still made no sense. She extended her arm out from the warmth of the doona and reached for her phone on the bedside table. She missed, knocking it as it slammed onto the floorboards with a thud. With her eyes still foggy, she rolled over and squinted at the clock to see it was only just after eight in the morning. She yawned, still exhausted. It hadn’t been a late night, but the weight of report writing, folios, the Nolan issue and the stress of her relationship had taken a toll on her.

  By the time they went back inside, Patrick had gone straight to the bedroom, flicked off his shoes and face planted it. It wasn’t exactly the form she liked to see him in, but over time she had adapted to it. A small part of her was relieved as his unconsciousness meant that another fight had been avoided. She hadn’t had the energy for it. Besides, she had wanted to finish the night the way it had, with his hand in hers. A sensation that had become rare these days.

  So, s
he wanted to hold onto it.

  ‘Babe, are you up?’ He must have heard the slam of her phone on the floor.

  She tucked the doona close to her chin and wiggled her body further down. She wasn’t ready to get out yet, it was too warm. She heard his footsteps draw near. She shifted her eyes towards the door waiting in anticipation, wondering what mood she would be presented with this morning. But with the sound of the washing machine brewing away, she had a feeling it was going to be a good day.

  To her surprise he was at the door, holding a tray of pancakes with a smile on his face that she hadn’t seen in months. She sat up tall and returned a smile. A warmth radiated inside of her as he placed it down on the bedside table. He leant in for a kiss, sending her lips ablaze as they came together with hers.

  ‘This is nice.’ She took a minute to look into his eyes, detecting what she thought was a glimmer of remorse.

  He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, his smile slowly dwindled. ‘Let’s just call this a sorry for last night breakfast.’

  She reached her arms out to him. He fell into them, wrapping his big hands around her little frame. His embrace felt comforting. The longer she held it, the more she felt her uneasiness slowly evaporate.

  ‘It’s ok, I shouldn’t have ordered it,’ she tested him.

  He released his arms around her and positioned his hands on either side of her face. ‘Well you won’t be doing that again, will you.’ He pressed his nose a little too firmly against hers.

  She jerked her head back in discomfort. She didn’t say anything, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he was already on his feet.

  ‘Thanks for breakfast babe, very thoughtful of you. You have the washing going too I can hear. Thanks.’

  ‘I guess I’m not completely useless, am I?’

  Ugh, really?

  ‘I’ve never thought that of you.’

  He shrugged and lowered his eyes to the floor. She didn’t understand how he could be sincere one moment and then passive aggressive the next. Had she said something wrong while thanking him? And why wouldn’t he look at her?